Coded in Leaves and Petals
by ownedbyacat
Summary: Iruka has been captured and imprisoned. He keeps himself sane by thinking about his "secret admirer", a person who leaves flowers or flower drawings on his desk. Iruka had finally realised that each flower had a meaning – and he understood those meanings a lot quicker than he was working out who actually sent them.
1. Introduction to the Madness

Before I get too far with this, here's the deal:

This is something I've always wanted to do: write a story in flowers. I have a story outline and I have list of flowers, but right now, it's messy. Very messy. I'm hoping that eventually all the jagged pieces will align into a perfectly plotted whole of KakaIru goodness. My brain doesn't work that way, though. So in the interim, I'll post flowers as the stories occur to me. Which means that in the long run, I'm likely to shuffle chapters around, add bits in the middle and generally make a mess of this while it's WiP. If you are cool with this experimental approach, thank you so much! You're my kind of KakaIru crowd. Please let me know what you think, suggest flowers or plants that remind you of Iruka or Kakashi and just have fun along with me and my Muse. If my approach offends you, or irritates you, please find something else to read while this is a work in progress. There are lots of wonderful KakaIru fics on this site and I wouldn't like you to miss out on some real gems just because you don't like what I'm trying to do here. Kakashi and Iruka are a wonderful pairing. Don't walk away from them, just because you don't like what I write.

**The story**

Iruka has a secret admirer who leaves flowers or drawings on his desk. While he tries to figure out the identity of this individual - and he's really in no hurry to do so as he enjoys the surprises that much - he is sent on a mission that goes severely sideways. Iruka is captured and imprisoned. He keeps himself sane by thinking about his "secret admirer" and his/her gifts. Eventually, Iruaka realises that each flower has a meaning; and he understands those meanings a lot quicker than he cane work out who actually places the drawings and flowers on his desk.


	2. Daffodils: Wishing on Warmth

_Another of my flower-themed drabbles for the boys. And actually, this should have been the first one. In flower code daffodils speak of unrequited love, sunshine and warmth. And Kakashi needs all of these to get home._

Remembering how to walk shouldn't be so difficult. Shivers wracked Kakashi's frame as he lifted one foot and set it slowly in front of the other. He'd eaten his last ration bar two days ago. He hadn't slept since... he really couldn't remember. If he had any sense at all, he'd stop and find shelter and food. But sense couldn't compete with the unease gnawing at the back of his mind and churning in his gut, with the urgent need to return to Konoha.

Having a reason to come home made all the difference to a mission, Kakashi had learned over the last few months. When before he would have taken risks or lingered on the way back, now he did neither. Returning to Konoha, as quickly as possible, for another chance to see and speak to a brown-haired chuunin became the overriding objective for the copy nin. It mattered little that Kakashi hadn't yet found the chance (or courage) to declare himself, that the object of his obsession was unaware of that fact. Being there, and seeing Iruka safe, was all that mattered to Kakashi.

So he put one foot in front of the other, and then he did it again. And again. Each step a step closer. To Konoha. To warmth. To shelter. To Safety... To Iruka Umino.

Kakashi's strength gave out half a day's travel from the gates. Blood loss and hunger made him dizzy. Sleep and chakra deprivation had him shivering. But Kakashi was determined to make it home. Even if he had to crawl. Fortunately, he was clear-headed enough to realise he was almost within patrol range. If he made it just a little bit further, he'd be found sooner or later by one of Konoha's regular shinobi patrols.

Kakashi curled up under a large beech tree and drank the last of his water. He picked beech nuts and popped them out of their shells right into his mouth, chewing the tiny seeds slowly. He only needed enough strength to get a bit further. An hour, maybe two. He thought about sending Pakkun, but expending that much chakra would leave him totally helpless. Best to keep that in reserve. Just in case.

When he felt a little better, Kakashi pushed himself back to his feet and started towards Konoha once more. Lift one foot, shuffle forward, set it down. Repeat with the other. Like moving mountains with nothing but stubbornness.

Kakashi knew when he crossed Konoha's patrol line. Suddenly, there were daffodils in his path. Swathes of yellow and gold, gently wafting in the breeze. The air grew warmer, the forest brighter and Kakashi's heart grew lighter with each step.

Regard, unrequited love, chivalry, sunshine – right then, Kakashi didn't care about the meaning of daffodils. All he knew was that he'd been dreaming of Iruka, wishing for warmth – and a field of daffodils had appeared in front of him as if by magic. Relieved and comforted Kakashi let himself fall into the field of golden petals and dream.

When he woke he was in Konoha. And Iruka was MIA.


	3. Cactus: Endurance

_**Cactus: As plants go, the thing was rather forgettable. As gifts go, though... it was invaluable for Iruka's survival.**_

A couple of spindly, greyish-green stalks, two feet tall and with their base buried in a deep green ceramic pot, the _thing_ had no redeeming features, not even decent spikes, though Iruka thought it might be distantly related to a cactus. It inhabited a corner of his desk one morning as he came to work, the now familiar note of red crepe by its side. And Iruka sighed, decided to read up on the meaning of cacti in the evening and finally took the sad specimen home with him.

For the next few months the pot took up a quiet corner in Iruka's living room, ignored and neglected – in as much as Iruka could neglect any living thing. He never found out the name and meaning of the spindly plant and even forgot to associate it with his secret admirer.

Two nights before Iruka left on his mission, the unprepossessing, lanky plant, half-forgotten in its corner on the windowsill taught Iruka a lesson. It flowered.

The white bloom, made up of thousands of smaller petals, lasted for just one night. But watching it slowly open as the sun sank and night darkened over Konoha was one experience Iruka would not soon forget. Just as he would remember the flower's sweet scent and how it lingered in his home as he left.

And as Iruka's mission went to hell, as he fought to keep his teammates safe, as he was caught and dragged away to spend long torturous days in this lightless cell, fighting as best as he was able, waiting for rescue, or maybe death, he remembered the lesson of the grey spindly plant: endurance.


	4. Yellow Acacia:Secret Love

Nothing but cold stone surrounds him. One tiny, narrow gap in the walls lets in a hint of light and a trickle of fresh air. Iruka is chained to the wall, held in place by shackles so tight they skin his wrists and ankles. He can see is breath in the murky light and his body throbs from the beating his jailers have dished out. They didn't ask much, just hit him over and over and Iruka knows this is just the beginning. Soon, they will begin to question him. And they will dole out proper punishment when he refuses to answer.

Like every shinobi, Iruka has been trained to resist interrogation and hold out against torture, and in his cold, gloomy cell he prepares his mind for the ordeal he knows is waiting for him. He gathers memories, both happy and sad, memories strong enough to lose himself in. He examines each one carefully to find those that will hold against an onslaught of pain, that will distract him from physical agony and mental torture alike. His parents are there along with the Third and encouraging words spoken over a shogi board. Blue eyes and boundless enthusiasm echo loudly through his mind and a flash of bright yellow just grazes the edges of his memory.

It had been an unremarkable morning, just another day getting ready to teach children, when the flowering branch had appeared on his desk along with a slip of red crepe paper. The bright flowers looked stunning against the dark wood of his desk and even more stunning in a simple black lacquer vase in Iruka's home. Twenty seven flowers he'd counted on the branch and he'd spent so much time looking at the intricate petals, trying to decipher their message that he can easily recall the gift in detail – now, when he most needs the distraction.

A sprig of yellow acacia and a slip of red crepe paper are added to the collection of memories offering encouragement and distraction. Iruka ponders the riddle of the flower, while taking solace from the promise made by its presence on his desk. And when his captors return Iruak's mind clings to the message hidden in the yellow blooms and draws strength from the unspoken pledge


	5. Aconite: Beware a Deadly Foe is Near

It took Pakkun forever to find the chocolate-haired nin in the maze of underground tunnels. The spicy, comforting scent Pakkun associated with Iruka no longer clung to the man. He smelled of harsher things now, of metal and blood and pain. And something close to ... despair? Pakkun had never smelled despair, so he couldn't be sure, but it was a cold smell. A lonely smell. And it went with the way Iruka looked when Pakkun found him.

He was chained to the bare concrete wall, covered in wounds. Some were bleeding – long slashes made with a blade – some starting to scab over. There were bruises, too, purple and black, and abrasions, lesions, puncture wounds. His hands and feet were swollen in their bonds, the wrists and ankles rubbed raw by the rough shackles. Deep circles ringed his eyes and his lips were chapped and bloody. Worst of all, though, was Iruka's gaze. Dull and lifeless, the gaze of a man who'd nothing left to give, who'd resigned himself to death and waited without hope for the darkness to claim him.

Pakkun crept closer, knowing it would break Kakashi's heart to hear of Iruka like this, but hoping against hope that the chocolate-haired nin who'd won his master's love was not beyond their help.

For the longest time, Iruka gave no sign of life beyond his laboured breathing, no sign that he was aware of anything outside his personal hell. But then his lips moved. A thread of sound emerged from the man's throat and formed into a single word:

"Aconite."

Pakkun disappeared in a puff of smoke as soon as he heard the jangling of keys announcing one of Iruka's jailers, embarrassed that a human had caught what he had been too preoccupied to notice. But Pakkun knew right then that the strange, cold, lonely scent he hadn't recognised wasn't despair at all. It was a mix of scents he knew well: defiance, determination. And hope.


End file.
